Colors
by onlyoneformeisme
Summary: Non magic, soulmate!au, Drarry / When you see your soulmate for the first time, or come in contact with them, you can see colors. Draco, though, has seen colors since as long as he could remember. And then his soulmate arrives, and it's someone unexpected. (ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE)
1. One

In all his sixteen years, Draco Malfoy could see colors.

He could see the vivid yellows, the neon greens, the blood looking reds, the dark and mysterious blues, the murky browns, the pitches of blacks. He could see them all.

But he shouldn't have been able to.

For, to see colors, you must have seen or at least touched your soulmate.

He's never seen his soulmate, but maybe he had brushed hands with them at one point, which is why he could see colors. Maybe they had walked by each other and their hands brushed, or they knew each other as children, or something along those lines.

It's said that when you're born, the world to you is a multitude of blacks, whites, and grays. Until you meet your soulmate, your world and vision will undoubtedly remain mundane looking. It's said that when you do meet your soulmate though, that a cacophony of _colors_ just begin to appear. Like magicians with their magic acts, colors just pop into existence and stay your whole life.

There are also people, called the Soulless, who go their whole lives without a soulmate. They will grow up never crossing paths with their soulmate and die lonely and with a cold heart.

Draco thanks his lucky stars that his parents were soulmates, because then he might have never been born.

His father, Lucius Malfoy, was, and still is, the Prime Minister. He sticks to the books when it comes to family traditions and etiquette; he abhors when Draco isn't at his best at dinner or is behaving unMalfoylike. He's a strict but caring man who loves his family even if his facial expressions don't show it. His mother, Narcissa Malfoy, is a kindergarten teacher whose students love her to death. She's kind and warming to strangers and welcomes people with a bright smile and a "Welcome to Hogwarts, England!" if the town got any new town members. She, like Lucius, would lock her emotions up if the situation is too dire or if she's about to have a meltdown.

Most times, he wonders if he would ever tell his parents.

Maybe by saying, "Oh, Mother, Father, I've been able to see colors for a long time. Doesn't that rose simply look beautiful?"

Or, "I can see colors but I've never seen or talked to my soulmate."

Or, to just say it blunt, like: "Mother, Father, I can see colors."

Then he sighs and shakes his head and tells himself, _Wait to tell them until you meet your soulmate._

He thought he would have to wait years.

Then the new neighbors came.

* * *

"Draco, honey, time to wake up!"

Grey eyes opened slowly, blinking blearily up at the fan that spun lazily above. A hand crawled out from underneath the covers and snaked over to his phone, encasing it before he brought it up to his face.

8:30.

He groaned and rolled onto his, sitting up so he could slide out of bed. He shuffled across his room too his door, opening it and entering the hall. He made the small walk down it and then traipsed down the stairs and into the kitchen, where his mother is at the stove, making pancakes. His father is already sitting at the table, a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in his hands.

His mother turns to smile at him as he sits, yawning, a smile on her face. "Good morning, Draco," she tells him cheerily.

"Good morning, Mother," he responds, pouring a glass of orange juice and taking a sip. He adds, "Good morning to you as well, Father."

His father just hums as a response from behind the newspaper.

His mother sighs, turning back to the stove as she flips the pancake. Her apron is tied around her waist and on the front is written, _Mother cooks best and you know it._ He had gotten that apron for his mother three years ago, when he was thirteen.

She finishes cooking the pancakes, setting them on a plate, then making her way to the table. She sat down in her chair, setting the plate near the plate of bacon and the plate of scrambled eggs, smiles, and says, "Dig in!"

Draco gets himself two pancakes, two pieces of bacon, and a spoonful of scrambled eggs. He begins to eat as his father folds the newspaper up and sets it off to the side, a frown on his face as he gets his own plate. He waits for his father to begin talking, knowing that his father will eventually.

"The Parkinsons have gone bankrupt," his father said, cutting a piece out of his pancake. "It's said to be due from them spending too much money on their vacations."

His mother shakes her head, sighing. "Have you talked to Alexander yet?"

"No. He and his family are still on vacation in Russia right at the moment."

"Have you talked to his wife, Percilla?"

"Narcissa, why would I talk to his wife? He would think I was having an affair with her or some bumbling bullshit like that."

His mother rolled her eyes, giving Draco a small smirk, causing him to short into his drink unnoticed. "Oh, I don't think Alexander would think that. He is a very understanding man, much like you are, dear."

His father chuckled. "If you say so, dear." He turned to Draco. "Have you talked to Pansy lately, Draco?"

"She only called me to tell me she landed Russia and would bring me back a gift. Oh, and to at least tell her what my summer was like as well when her family comes back to town." He took a sip of his orange juice after he finished talking.

"Hm. I'll get in touch with Alexander if I can today." He stood up, pushing his chair in as he leaned liver to kiss Narcissa on the cheek and gave Draco a smile. "I'll see the two of you after work today." He grabbed his cane that was by the kitchen doorway and made his way out of the room, the kitchen door closing behind him.

Narcissa then turns to Draco, a wide smile on her face.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Don't tell your father yet," she says, "but we'll be getting new neighbors."

He stared at her. "Really?" he finally asked. "When? When will they be here?"

"From what Maria Zabini told me, they should be here today around noon. They have two boys around your age, is what she told me. Maybe you three could become friends." The smile on her face grows wider. "Wouldn't that be nice, to have new friends?"

Draco nods, smiling slightly. "Yeah, I guess so."

Now he just has to wait until noon.

* * *

 **Hello there! Welcome! Here's a new story! I need to stop this thing I've got going on, where I start a story and then I sorta abandon it?**

 **Anyway, this is a soulmate!au (obviously) and I hope you guys like it!**

 **Leave a review on your way out if there's any mistakes or anything.**


	2. Two

**Hey all! Thanks so much for the** ** _amazing_** **reviews last chapter! They motivated me too get started on this chapter, so here we go!**

 **Oh, I forgot to mention as well:** Abusive!Dursleys, James and Lily are still dead, Sirius is NOT  in Azkaban, and Remus is still a professor, but for history (for he'd make an _amazing_ history teacher).

* * *

Draco sighed, closing the book that he had taken from the house library and setting it on the coffee table. He had spent the last couple of hours just wasting time, reading books on history or just fantasy books. He had gotten a couple of texts from Theo and Blaise, as well as Tracey and Daphne, but that was all.

Mostly, he had just been waiting for the new neighbors to arrive.

He looked at the clock, sighing once again.

It seemed time just couldn't move fast enough.

* * *

Emerald green eyes peered out the window, watching as the moving truck passed by shops, houses, and stores. They passed a park where kids were climbing all over a jungle gym, laughing and screaming. People walked down the street or through the park, dogs on leashes. Some of them were jogging with the dog in front or beside them.

The truck slammed to a stop, causing the emerald-eyed teen to bang his head against the window. His cousin beside him snickered

"Watch it, boy!" his uncle snarled from the front seat.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

His Uncle humphed.

His cousin snickered again, giving him an evil smirk. "Hey, Potter, think you'll find your soulmate soon? I doubt it, 'cause who would want _you_ as their soulmate?"

He ground his teeth together, turning back towards the window, ignoring his cousin.

"Oh, gonna ignore me, huh?"

He stayed silent.

His cousin leaned over to him and whispered in his ear, "What if I tell mom and dad that you're _gay_?"

His breath hitched as he turned his head, his eyes flicking to meet his cousin's. "Please," he murmured. "You know what Uncle Vernon would do if he found out I was gay."

The smirk widened. "Yeah, he'd beat the shit out of you. Something I would love to see."

He winced.

"But I'll stay quiet for now. Not for you, mind you."

He breathed a sigh of relief, turning away from his cousin just as the moving van before them pulled to a stop before a house. Uncle Vernon pulled the car to a stop, shutting off the engine as he snatched the keys out of the ignition and opened the door, clambering his way out. Aunt Petunia, the horse-faced woman she was, followed him, clambering out of the car from the passenger side. Dudley climbed out, almost slamming the door on Harry's hand before Harry caught it.

A small scowl on his face, Harry slid out of the car, closing the door gently behind him as he stood behind his relatives.

The doors to the moving van opened and two men clambered out, stretching and conversing with each other. One of the men walked over to Uncle Vernon and said, "We'll need some help bringing in some of the furniture and boxes, if you don't mind."

Uncle Vernon's mustache bristled slightly. "Harry'll help you," he replied gruffly.

The man nodded, tipping his hat slightly, then walked over to the back of the van, where he and the other man opened the back and jumped in. Harry, receiving a scathed looked from his uncle, made his way over with a sigh. Standing at the end of the ramp, he looked back and watched as his relatives entered the house, turning back around at the clearing of a throat.

He flushed slightly, turning to the men. "Sorry," he mumbled.

One of the men laughed. "It's okay, kid," he said. He held out a box. "How many of these can you hold?"

"I can probably carry three, if I'm able to see over the third one."

"Alrighty then!" the man said cheerfully, setting the box in Harry's arms. "Name's Chad, and that one over there—" he hooked a thumb over at the other man picking up another box "—is Matt. Thanks for helping us, even if your uncle did volunteer you."

Harry shrugged, shifting the box in his arms. "I'm used to it," he told the man as he set another box in his arms. "Uncle Vernon's like that."

"A right bastard?"

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that he is."

"Then I pity you."

Harry chuckled. "Not many people do."

The other man, Matt, made his way over with a third box and gently set it on the other two. "You got them okay?" he asked as he and Chad watched Harry hold them.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He gave them a smile. "I'll be back."

He squeezed his way through the slightly open gate and made his way up the walk. The grass of the yard was clean cut and dark green, full of life. There was a tree in the corner old the yard that had several apples growing on the branches; several squirrels ran from branch to branch and a nest of bluejays could be seen sleeping. Flowers had been planted all around the edges of the yard, as well as some vegetation that were still growing. A bench with an engraving was sat snug underneath the tree, shielding the bench from the rays of sunlight.

Climbing up the steps, he nudged open the door and entered the house.

The walls of the hallway were a creamy yellow color, like crème brûlée, and were covered in several picture frames already. (Aunt Petunia had stuffed some of the small ones in her purse. To Harry, it looked like she had time to put them up.) The floors were a rich mahagony floorboard type, smooth and clean to the point he could see his face in it.

He poked his head into the living room, looking around. The walls were the same color and the floor was the same, but there were a couple of windows looking out into the street and out into the neighbor's house. There was a small fireplace that had a grate over it, several prices of firewood already set in it.

Turning away, he made his way into the kitchen, shoes squeaking against the floor.

"Stop that squeaking, boy!" his aunt shrilled when he stepped into the kitchen. "You'll leave a mark on the floor, and God forbid, leave dirt behind!"

He rolled his eyes, setting the boxes down. _I swear, it's like she has OCD._

"Don't roll your eyes at me!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"Hurry up, set them down! Go and help those men, you miserable and pesty boy!"

 _Pesty? I'M pesty?_

Sighing and shaking his head, he made his way back to the front door and into the porch, where he stood for a few seconds.

Chad and Matt were dragging a couch out of the van, talking okver to each other from the ends. The yard, from the porch, looked beautiful, almost like Beauty and the Beast (to him). There was a bluejay hopping along the ground, peeking its beak into the ground, searching for worms.

He made his way down the stairs and down the walk just as Chad and Matt began their way up the walk. "Need any help?" he asked.

"Nah—" Chad grunted. "Just get some more boxes, of ya can. Me and Matt got this, don't worry."

He shrugged. "Okay."

Chad nodded at him, then ambled the couch up the porch, Matt grunted as they did so. He turned to the van, clambered in, then began to look for the boxes with his meager things in it. He founds his, then grabbed two other ones.

He picked them up and walked backwards towards the ramp slowly.

"You need any help?"

He jumped, dropping the boxes, whirling around.

"Wha—"

The words died on his lips as he met stormy grey eyes staring at him.

* * *

 **WHOO!**

 **CHAPTER TWOOOOOOO IS HERE!**

 **Yay!**

 **I haven't abandoned this, I swear! I had to think _really_ hard on how I wanted this to go, and it took me about three hours to write.**

 **Be glad I wrote it for you all (it didn't take three hours, took me, like, four days to write it).**

 **Anyway, looking forward to reviews!**


	3. Three

**Whoo! Chapter three! Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews again, which keeps me motivated, so here y'all go!**

 **Oh, and I should have another Drarry one-shot coming out soon...**

* * *

The first time Harry realized he could see colors was when he was three and making breakfast for his relatives.

He had been watching as the bacon slowly shriveled and hardened, as there was a crackle and pop from the grease, as they sometimes bumped into another. It was then that he noticed that the bacon was a color other than black, a color he shouldn't have been able to see.

Red.

The bacon had been the color _red._

He stood there, watching as the grease would crackle and pop, the bacon still its sort of slightly burnt red. He had heard of the stories, that when you meet or brush against your soulmate, you would be able to see colors. He had heard of stories where the world is just black and white until you do or if you never do. He had heard of the Soulless, who his aunt and uncle always called 'freaks', who never met or had a soulmate and never will.

When had he met his?

He had only been three and his aunt and uncle never let him out of the house, so it was impossible he had met them while with his relatives.

So maybe that meant he met them while with his parents.

While he had been thinking, he had never seen the bacon burning until his aunt had shrilled, "BOY! WHY AREN'T YOU WATCHING THE BACON?!"

(His hand was placed on the stove as punishment and his aunt only watched as he cried in pain.)

That night, as he had laid in his cupboard, he had held his hand in front of his face in the dark and had whispered, "One day, I'll find you. And that day will be the greatest day of my life."

* * *

The stormy grey eyes staring into his were beautiful. They looked like pools of melted mercury, endless in their depths, swirling with emotions and knowledge. They were beautiful, and he couldn't stop staring at them.

"Did you hear me?"

The sort of raspy and sultry voice shook his out of his revere and he blinked owlishly. Then, with a flush, he nodded. "Uh, yeah, that'd be great if you would."

There was a chuckle as the mercury-eyed teen smiled. "No problem," he replied, hoisting himself into the van.

Harry knelt, face still flushed, to pick up the boxes he had dropped. As he stood and stumbled slightly, he noticed the mercury-eyed and raspy and sultry sounding teen had blonde hair. But it wasn't just blonde, it almost looked like white, but more, like cornstarch. It was combed to the side and left alone, several strands breaking from the hair gel that could be seen glistening in it.

The platinum blonde caught his eye and smiled, giving him a wink.

Harry blushed.

Yup, this guy was gorgeous.

He climbed down the ramp, peering over the side of them as he made his way past the gate, the blonde only climbing down seconds after he did. As they made their way into the house, the blonde asked, "Are you one of the new neighbors?"

"Yeah," he responded as they made their way into the kitchen.

Aunt Petunia almost immediately made a sour face but plastered a smile on instead once she saw the blonde teen behind Harry. "Ah, Harry, who is your new friend?" she asked as the two set the boxes down.

He looked at her and said, "This is, uh . . ." He trailed off, then looked to the blonde, who smiled.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, your next door neighbor." He held out a hand for Aunt Petunia to shake.

"It's so nice to meet you," his aunt simpered. She took his hand in hers, shaking it as she added, "I hope Harry hasn't made a bad impression on you. He can sometimes be a little too much." She shot him a look, then gave Draco a smile. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen," Draco replied smoothly, still smiling, hand still clasped in Petunia's. "I actually startled Harry, really, when I offered to help him. He was about to climb down the ramp when I asked him of he wanted help." He gave Harry a look that said _is she really your aunt?_

Harry nodded slightly, then gave his aunt a tight smile. "Aunt Petunia, Draco and I will go and get some more of the boxes, if that's alright with you."

"Ah, of course, of course." She let Draco's hand go and gave him one last smile.

Harry gave her another tight smile, then directed Draco out of the kitchen. As he was about to leave, his aunt clamped a hand down on his shoulder and hissed in his ear, "Do not, and I repeat, do _not_ leave a bad impression on this family, Harry Potter. Or Vernon _will_ have some 'words' with you."

Harry flinched slightly.

(The _last_ time Uncle Vernon had words with him, he had been unconscious for a week.)

He nodded and made his way outside once her hand was gone from his shoulder. Draco was already inside of the moving van again, Chad and Matt dragging a chifforobe down the ramp.

"Hey kid," Chad grunted as Harry passed him up the ramp.

"Oh, might want to be careful with that," Harry told the man. "Aunt Petunia will _kill_ you if you so much as get a speck of dirt or a scratch in it."

The man grunted in response.

Harry spent a few seconds watching as the two men dragged the old chifforobe up the porch steps and into the house, his aunt's voice drifting out through the door, "If you so much as get a _speck_ of dirt on that . . .!"

He snickered a little, then turned to help Draco get some boxes.

As they rummaged through the furniture, Draco asked, "Is your aunt always like that?"

"Like what?"

"A little nosy?"

Harry laughed. "Yeah. You could say so."

"Man. Is it just you and her?"

"No. My uncle and my cousin, too."

"What's your uncle like?"

He tried to think of words that would describe his uncle to someone who didn't know him. "I guess you could say he is a . . . nonproductive man? He hates anything to do with strenuous activity."

"Does that include sex, then?"

Harry burst out laughing. "Oh god!"

"What? It's a serious question!"

"I don't want to think about what he does with my aunt! That's just disgusting!"

Draco laughed, shaking his head, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Harry stared, then blurted out, "Your eyes are pretty."

It was silent.

Then Draco asked, "What do you mean?"

"Your eyes, they sort of . . . twinkle? And the color of them . . ."

Draco dropped the box he was holding, spinning around to face Harry. "You can see the color of my eyes?"

Harry scrunched his face up. "Yeah. They're a stormy mercury color. Why?"

Draco stared at him, then turned his head to the side. "I have to go," he mumbled, moving past Harry.

"Wait!" He set his box down and scrambled after Draco. "Have I said something wrong to you?"

He got no response.

* * *

As he stared at his ceiling later that night, he thought about what he had told Draco and how his eyes looked pretty, their stormy mercury grey color . . .

He turned on his side, sighing.

What had he said wrong?

* * *

 **All done! Chapter four will start with a few days later, where Harry will run into Draco and meet some of Draco's friends. It'll also include why Draco ran away.**

 **I'm proud of how this turned out!**

 **Thanks for reading and looking forward to reviews!**


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